


Haunting Shadows of the Past

by Caiti (Caitriona_3)



Series: The Cahill Project [17]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Fluff and Angst, Jeremy Renner Character Combinations, Mind Rape, Nightmares, Other, Sharing a Bed, The Cahill Project, The Grimm Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 18:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18555592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitriona_3/pseuds/Caiti
Summary: Bucky's past comes back to haunt him . . . but his mates are there to help.





	Haunting Shadows of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm not really big on listing triggers, but I will list the squares being filled.
> 
> Fills:
> 
> **Clint Barton Bingo** \- Nightmares  
>  **Bad Things Happen Bingo** \- Mind Rape  
>  **Fluff Bingo** \- Bed Sharing
> 
> Takes place May 2010 - story-wise: they're in New Mexico - set after Clint returns from "Bloody Moon" - between chapters 236 and 237 of "The Grimm Truth"
> 
> (Sooner or later we'll get the timeline updated. XD)

_What the hell?_

Clint blinked his eyes open, nose wrinkling as he fought the need to yawn. Something felt out of place . . . and he didn’t know what the hell had woken him. Better to get more of a feel for things before he gave himself away by moving. Not that he could see much at the moment. During the night he’d curled around Darcy, spooning up behind her, so most of his field of vision consisted of curly brown hair right this moment. And with his hearing aids on the bedside table, he couldn’t hear a damn thing.

So what had woken him up?

The bed shifted.

Not by much . . . if he hadn’t been awake, he might not have noticed it. Or maybe he had? It could have woken him. The movement prompted him to reach out and brush his lady lover’s hair out of his eye line so he could get a better view of the room. Just beyond her beautiful profile, he spotted the problem in the lines of their third lover’s face. Pain, fear, anger . . . all of them etched deep in his strong features. And they spelled out one thing to Clint.

_Nightmare._

Bucky had more reasons for nightmares than any of them – than both he and Darcy combined, really. While they each had their own ghosts, he hoped to God they never went through anything that might give them such dark corners as those haunting the man they both loved.

Damn it . . . did he try and wake him? Or move Darcy out of reach?

Before he could make up his mind, Bucky’s eyes flew open and he shot up, gun in hand, sweeping the room. Clint froze, his arm a band of steel around Darcy’s waist as he felt her wake at Bucky’s violent movements. They been through this before, but since the three of them only started sharing a bed six weeks ago or so, they still felt out the appropriate ways to react. As Darcy trembled in his hold, he knew he needed to figure out how to diffuse the situation. 

Her breath shuddered out of her and he saw Bucky’s head tilt as he caught the small noise. When the man kept most of his back to them as he searched the room, Clint figured that meant they weren’t considered threats. So maybe he could take a small risk?

“Buck?”

Shadowed eyes shot towards the bed at the sound of Clint’s voice. When Bucky did nothing but return to his scanning, Clint took that as a good sign and nudged Darcy’s shoulder with his chin, encouraging her to speak up.

“Bucky?”

Her voice – soft, feminine, worried, and lined with fear – brought his attention to the bed. Clint had no idea how long he stared at them, one minute or ten, and he didn’t care. They remained still even if he wanted nothing more than to move, to gather the other man into his arms so he could shield Bucky from whatever ghosts tormented his sleep. He could feel Darcy trembling to do the same. 

But they had to stay still.

Not knowing what nightmare clawed its way through Bucky’s mind, any movement could set off his fight or flight instincts . . . and Bucky didn’t run. Clint would be damned if he’d let Bucky take on any guilt for hurting one of them while caught in a flashback. After a long, tense pause, his body drooped as if the energy spilled out of him.

“ _Der’mo._ ”

The former assassin sat down on the foot of the bed. He made sure to put the safety on before dropping the gun to the floor. Then his shoulders slumped, head hanging down as his hands dangled between his knees. 

Now Clint moved. 

His hands swept up his hearing aids before he swung himself up and over Darcy to crouch behind Bucky. Slipping them into his ears to make sure he didn’t miss anything, he then moved to wrap his arms around his lover’s shoulders. Small tremors ran through Bucky, the tiny shaking movements reflecting the instability rolling through the strong man in his hold. 

“ _Prosti menya_ ,” Bucky muttered. “ _Prosti menya . . . Prosti menya . . ._ ”

“Always.” Love, acceptance . . . both filled Clint’s mind and hopefully his voice. “But there's nothing to forgive. There could never be anything to forgive.”

Bucky shook his head, but he fell silent. Tightening his hold, Clint waited . . . waited for a sign of how to proceed. Sometimes his mate needed to run, sometimes he wanted to talk, and others he curled around them as if holding desperately to the reality of his world.

“Both of you come back to bed.” 

Clint looked around at her voice, feeling Bucky do the same. Worry still glimmered in Darcy’s eyes, but a soft smile curved her lips. Her dark curls tumbled around her face and down her shoulders, one bare as her oversized sleep shirt slipped down when she sat up. She made a gorgeous picture…

Especially since he was pretty sure that was **his** shirt.

One hand reached out to them. For a moment, neither of them moved. Bucky continued to hold himself very still, as if he might shatter with any movement. He wouldn’t shift until Bucky did, wanting to give his mate the support he needed. Blue eyes watched them both, patient determination shining though.

“Come back to me.”

At her second call, Bucky turned and Clint moved so he had room to crawl up the bed and curl into Darcy’s side, his head resting over her heart. The younger man followed, plastering himself against Bucky’s back so they tucked the older man between them as much as possible. Clint felt Bucky begin to relax as warmth built between them. That relaxation loosened some hold he’d been keeping on his words and he began to talk.

“I could feel it,” Bucky murmured, his voice a little muffled, but the words all too clear to his lovers. “The chair . . . the energy tearing into my mind, ripping at my memories . . . trying to take everything away. Going back to the cold…”

Fighting back a shudder at the pictures his words painted, Clint forced himself to remain still, a source of strength, not worry. Darcy brushed her hand down the dark hair to where flesh and metal met on Bucky’s shoulder. She repeated the movement as Bucky continued to whisper details of his nightmare. Her motions seemed steady, calming – each one designed to comfort him. Clint glanced over Bucky’s head to gauge her mindset and almost flinched at the sight of tears sliding from the corners of her eyes. Both of them hated to see their girl cry . . . but her control kept Bucky from realizing anything.

So he kept talking.

“In the cold I couldn’t feel anything . . . nothing existed except duty, responsibility, doing the job.” A shiver ran through him and their hold tightened. Clint closed his eyes, nestling his forehead between Bucky’s shoulder blades. He felt the cool metal of Bucky’s hand as it gripped his forearm where he had it over Bucky’s chest. “Except Marina . . . I could remember _Uchenny_.”

“She’s tough to forget,” Darcy murmured.

Bucky gave a rough sound, something caught between a sob and a chuckle. “They needed that memory – they needed it to control me.”

The point of which Clint made a mental note to **never** mention in front of Marishka. She probably knew . . . but he saw no reason to rub salt in the wound by mentioning it. He loved his big sister and knew damn well her heart bled over every little hurt any of them took – and this wasn’t little.

“Feeling that again . . . that sense of them ripping through my memories . . . knowing they could take control away from me **again**.” He paused, almost curling up as his grip on them tightened. “Claws in my mind . . . I thought I would lose you – lose both of you.” His voice trembled. “That **I** would hurt you both . . . or worse.”

A savage fury tried to boil up in Clint’s gut and he had to force himself to swallow it down. Tomorrow he could go out and shoot to vent every inch of his anger, but Bucky didn’t need his temper right now. He needed their soothing. “You’re here with us, Buck.”

“We’re here with you,” Darcy murmured, voice warm with loving compassion. “Feel Clint behind you?” A hum of agreement came in answer. “Hear my heartbeat?”

“I hear you, Doll.”

“This is our bed,” she continued. “We’re in the middle of nowhere New Mexico helping one crazy astrophysicist try and relocate her intergalactic boyfriend so she stops giving me grief about my two hot guys.” Both men huffed, not quite up for laughing, but amused by her words. “Hey, I get the jealousy, really, but I need the woman to relax so she quits getting so uptight when I’m running a little late after a busy night.”

“Got your priorities in place there, don’t you, Darce?” Clint teased as he felt Bucky relaxing even further as she spoke.

“My priorities are right here,” Darcy insisted. Her one hand never stopped brushing through Bucky’s hair, but the other one – the one behind him – reached out to rest on Clint. “Might have a couple of other important people in my life, but the main ones are right here beside me.”

“The moon in my sky,” Bucky whispered. “Even if we can't see it we know it's up there.” Clint hummed in agreement and Bucky’s hand tightened on his arm. “And my Hawk.”

Silence fell over the trio as they lay there, simply taking comfort in being together. Bucky’s muscles softened as he melted into their holds and the nightmare lost its grip on him. With any luck, the past retreated back into the dark of his memory. Clint could hope so anyway. If it did, then there shouldn’t be any more nightmares that night . . . possibly even that week.

“I’m so tired.” Bucky breathed out the words.

“Then we should sleep,” Darcy decided, pulling at the sheet to drag it over them. 

“I don’t know if I can.” Despite the hesitation in his voice, he reached for the sheet to help her. 

“Shh.” Clint pressed a kiss to the skin of Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m right behind you – I’ve got your back. You can hear our _peresmeshnika’s_ heart. We’re here; we’re with you. You’re not alone . . . not anywhere near the ice.”

“Yeah…”

“Let go, Buck,” Clint murmured as sleep began to overtake them. “We’ll keep you warm.”


End file.
